We were relieved to find that our bodies held up impressively well through and after our long day yesterday. We were both a bit grumpy though and walked hard all morning -- after walking so long and so far yesterday we just wanted to feel like we had arrived somewhere conclusively.
Highway 178 crosses through the lower Sierras at Walker Pass. This point marks the end of section F for us and is also where we are set to hitch 17 miles west to Onyx to pick up our next resupply, this one kindly provided by my aunt and uncle, Cheri and Gary. Thanks to you both.
It is Sunday though and that, of course, means no PO. We were aware that our 30-miler would put us into this bind and planned on taking an extended detour further along 178 to man-made Lake Isabella, a resevoir into which the Kern River flows and fills each year. We figured we had earned ourselves another town day -- even just a half day. Also, we ran out of food this morning at 11am after a fine meal of mashed potatoes, cous-cous, and bottom o' the bag pretzel salt.
Hitching was more difficult today than it has been previously. We caught a first ride from Walker Pass on a lumber truck. The driver was a local guy, been working lumber, sawmills, hauling for 43 years. He took a few cheap shots at the environmentalists, cheap because he could probably tell we might disagree with at least a portion of his sentiment -- I mean, sure, it is a bit ironic that most tree huggers live in wooden homes and read books -- but weren't about to raise the issue with him. He then dropped us off at a point just past Onyx (Onyx is an intersection in the middle of a desert valley with a Chevron and a Post Office -- we had him take us as far as he could towards a restaurant with hot water in the bathrooms and hot food for our bellies) where we stuck our thumbs toward the infrequent traffic once again. This time the hitch didn't come for a good 45 minutes. Needless to say, we were a bit discouraged. Finally a white Ford Explorer pulled over and a middle aged guy on his way from Santa Monica to his summer home in Kernville picked us up. We said we just wanted a bite to eat and a place to throw our tent and he said that we definitely wanted to go to Kernville. "It is a bit further out of your way, but trust me you'll love it," he smiles. So we agreed; there's little else to do with no map of the area, no real press for time, and no need to fight against the current -- any current at all . . .
Long story short, we are in Kernville now and it is just what we were looking for. It is an outdoor enthusiast's paradise, with allegedly world-class kayaking running down out of the Sierra which looms overhead on the Kern River.
We checked in at the Forest Service ranger station to ask about the status of the access road which connects Lone Pine to Cottonwood Camp, which is where we plan on exiting the Sierras in a week, and the ranger gave a call up the way and let us know that it's currently clear of snow and open to traffic. So, we're good to go, it appears, for making our Kennedy Meadows to Lone Pine attempt. We'll see you there Mom.
Now, we may just take a day off. We've got time in the schedule and this town seems like a good one for a break. We're going to go pitch our tent somewhere along the banks of the overflowing river, eat our leftovers, and sleep . . . mmm, and coffee awaits in the morning . . .
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